


Meal - 31 Days of Apex - Day 23

by mdpenguino



Series: 31 Days of Apex [23]
Category: Apex Legends (Video Games)
Genre: 31 Days of Apex (Apex Legends), Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-24
Updated: 2020-07-24
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:40:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25476292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mdpenguino/pseuds/mdpenguino
Summary: Mirage tries to make pancakes.
Series: 31 Days of Apex [23]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1850209
Kudos: 14





	Meal - 31 Days of Apex - Day 23

I think I must’ve phased in and out of sleep multiple times at this point, as I was rudely awakened by the doorbell, and not my PDA. And then I heard it again. And again. And once again. “Okay, okay. I’m coming.” I shouted as I sat up in bed. With a yawn and a stretch, I fumbled my way out of bed, over my clothes from yesterday messily strewn all over the floor. ‘I’ll get to those later’ I thought to myself. The ping of the doorbell echoed through again, and then around 4 to 5 bells rang out in quick succession. “Ringing it more isn’t going to get me to come to the door faster!” I shout as I pinch my fingers together to do up the buttons on the shirt. I pull on a pair of slack trousers and groggily trundle me and my bed-hair to the door. 

I tightly pinched the barrel-bolt of the front door and pulled it across, the chain link still hooked to the doorframe. “Hey Wraith, it’s us, your buddies!” Mirage said through the crack of the door. 

“What do you mean ‘us’?” I retort back.

 _”You’re in danger”_ The voices rang out inside my head, deafening cries and calls. The paranoia was definitely one of the worst parts of having the voices. Always contradicting, always undermining, but almost always helpful.

“Hello friend.” Came Pathfinders’ robotic voice echoing. I released a thankful sigh, hopefully it wasn’t audible. “Can we come in?”

“We’re here for pancakes.” Mirage comments. 

I close the door over. And release the flimsy chain-link. If they really wanted to get in, it wasn’t really going to put up that much resistance. I should get that inspected. Pulling on the handle once more, I dodge out of the way of the opening door. “Pancakes, pancakes sound good.” I say as I let them enter my humble flat.

But they didn’t enter, not at first. “Oh my god, your hair!” Mirage asks, a huge grin plastered on his extremely punch-able face. “Wraith, did you just get out of bed?” he lets out a giggle as he steps inside, pathfinder quickly following in his goofy footsteps. 

“So, wait why are both of you here right now?” I ask as I gently close the door behind them, making sure to slide the bolt back across. “Also next time, please don’t repeatedly press the doorbell. Please.” I say.

“Oh, that, that was Path here. He saw that button, and let me tell you, he couldn’t help himself. Something about interfacing."

“Wait. That didn’t happ-“

“Ah, ah, ah.” Mirage snapped back. “There’s no point lying to Wraith about it. She knows it was you, with her head. Probably.” I roll my eyes. God these two. 

“So, where are the pancakes?” Mirage comments as he pulls up a chair at the table. He was casually surveying the dimly lit room. The walls were grey. And where there would be light shining into the room, it was shuttered behind large blinds. 

“Wait I thought you were going to be making the pancakes. You explicitly said you were going to be making pancakes.” I say as I lean up against the worksurfaces of a kitchen, with my right hand I lean out and reach for the closest knife. I examined the blade, letting it shimmer against the bright white fluorescent lighting of the room. “I’m pretty sure you said that you were going to be making pancakes for me.” I say with the added emphasis of the knife being in hand.

“Hey, hey, hey.” Mirage says, with the knife in his hand. “We can talk this out here, surely. Put the knife down.” 

“I think she wants you to make the pancakes, friend.” Path comments.

“That’s more like it,” I comment. I mimic a stabbing motion with my wrist, knife in hand. “Pathfinder gets it.”

“OK. OK. Pancakes it is then.” He pushes the chair out. “Sheesh.” He says as he walks past me. 

“Yay pancakes.” Says in his elongated voice.

“Yay indeed.” I finally put the knife down and watch as Mirage rifles through the cupboards in the kitchen. 

“Where do you keep the flour?” He asked dumbstruck. 

“You find out.” I say with a nonchalant shrug, using my hands to lift myself up and onto the worksurface. I was like a little child, kicking my legs in the air, waiting for someone else to cook food for me. I turn my head to Pathfinder. “Why are you here Path. You can’t even eat food.” 

“Emotional support.” He fires back. 

“Fair enough.” I reply, my gaze returning back to Mirage’s searching. But to my surprise, he had the ingredients laid out in front of him. “That’s looking promising Elliott!” I comment patronisingly. 

“Shut up.” He commented over his shoulder. 

“Fine. Fine.” I giggled softly. “But when will they be done?” 

“A masterpiece doesn’t happen in an instant.” He says as he cracks an egg into the bowl and I watch as the eggshells, drop into the bowl. 

“It really doesn’t, does it.” I sigh and roll my eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> Pretty happy with this one. Thematically successor to yesterdays prompt. Definitely could've gone further and done more with this one. But I don't know where I would've ended it.


End file.
